to be lit up from within
vein by vein
A nod, swift, sure, and certain, while her mind was occupied in a convoluted sanction and section of layers, confusion, and torment. “We were always told they couldn’t get sick.” It’d been true throughout the circumstances with the Blight, though the Voice had been the cause. In this case, no one seemed to know exactly where it’d come from, how it contorted from person to person, or what would last for a cure. And that was with those who didn’t have fluid for blood. She came up to him after finding nothing of importance along the other obsidian stones, wandering into the middle, where the bizarre formation seemed to take shape. Still, moments of the Rift, of Kisamoa, drifted through her pulse, and she fought off the notion to render it into nothing, to try and disassemble the weird notions. “Could it be a symbol of something?” The firecracker youth glanced up, to see if it pointed into any particular directions, if there was something aligned with skies or rocks. “Is there anything on top of it?” She figured he’d be able to see over or within, his stature a little taller than her. Or she could always stand on top of one of the rocks, striving to gesture and glance over.
to be the sun
MELITA
